


Feverish

by Scripturience



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2761145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scripturience/pseuds/Scripturience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Kankri Vantas, and you will never understand how your matesprit is able to light a fire within you when his touch is so cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feverish

**Author's Note:**

> My ~~shameless~~ shameful attempt at Cronkri smut.

It never ceases to amaze you, how eager he is – how quickly he’s able to get things moving, once your matesprit has sparked that little fire of lust within you. It’s an odd way of thinking about it, though, especially considering how cold his touches always are, at least in comparison to yours.

Although, you find that you can’t really be bothered to think about too much at all, at least not when Cronus is working his lips against yours. The way he kisses you deeply, his tongue moving itself against your own, it makes your back arch up against the mattress. Of course, he takes advantage of the movement, his cold hands dipping underneath the hemline of your sweater to slide up your sides. It sends a shiver up your spine, the feeling of those almost icy hands moving along your heated skin.

It’s not too long before Cronus is deciding to move things along. He keeps his lips against yours, not relenting in the slightest as his hands shift down to the hem of your sweater. He has you nearly breathless, as he grips at the fabric, pulling it up your form. His movements are slightly slowed, if only because he’s fervently moving his lips against your own. Still, inevitably he has to pull his mouth away, as he tugs the article of clothing up and over your head. The fabric pulls against your hair on the way up, of course, causing the disheveled mess to uncomfortably fall over your eyes. You give a quick but practiced shake of your head, moving the unkempt mess out of your eyes as your matesprit flings the shirt to whatever corner of the respiteblock.

Almost immediately, he’s eager to return his lips to you. This time, however, Cronus is kissing at your neck, rather than your lips. You suck in a harsh breath, unconsciously craning your head away from him, offering up a wider area of skin for him to ravish. Your neck is a rather strong erogenous zone, you’ve found, and your matesprit is near always unrelenting in exploiting that weakness. Had it not been for your choice of dress for this particular day, you have no doubts at all that he would have set his sights on what has become a favorite target of his. Often times, when you make the choice of wearing a top that leaves your collar exposed, this is how Cronus would try to coax your lust out of you.

You’re gnawing away at your already raw lip, biting down to keep any would-be noises from escaping you. Cronus sucks and nips at your skin with an enthusiasm that is not unfamiliar to you by any means, as his hands resume their touches at your now exposed sides. They trail lightly down your stomach, making their way down past your waist. He sets his hands firmly against your hips, dipping his thumbs beneath the hem of your leggings. You swallow thickly, still focusing on trying to keep yourself quiet as your matesprit’s hands move lower, pulling down the fabric with them. You can’t help but shiver at his touches, his cool hands deliberately sliding against your legs as he sheds the clothing from them.

Only once he’s left you completely exposed, does your matesprit finally decide to pull away from his assault on your neck. He pulls back with one last firm kiss against your ravaged skin, before sitting up to look down at you. Cronus meets your slight (you hope) bashfulness with a grin. You wouldn’t even need to look at him to know that violet tinted eyes are roaming over your exposed form hungrily, which is enough to make you want to squirm. Unfortunately for you, the still in activity lasts longer than you would like, leaving you feeling weirdly vulnerable in your nudity as Cronus works to undress himself as well.

Despite your desire to move things along, Cronus is apparently in no rush. His hands return to your hips, which you’ve noted to be a rather fond resting place for them. Once again, cold hands are trailing up and down your sides, more firmly this time as they trace the curves of your body. Cronus’s eyes seem to follow their movements, and the way he looms over you makes you want to sink through the bed. But regardless of your impatience, you certainly have no intentions of voicing your growing desire for him to just get on with it already.

Eventually, however, after what feels like far too long (to you anyway), Cronus finally seems to get his fill of gawking at you. He brings his hips forward, pressing himself closer to you as he leans down. You hiss between clenched teeth, your body tensing when you feel the cold shock of his bulge making contact with yours. Your response draws a low chuckle out of him, which you’re barely able to answer with an agitated grumble.  
  
“I’ve got you, doll,” he murmurs near your ear, prompting you to shiver as his bulge wraps itself around yours.

Now, you’re finding it more than slightly difficult to contain your noises. Cronus resumes his earlier marking of your neck, languidly biting and lapping at your reddening flesh as he rolls his hips in slow, steady circles. His ministrations, combined with the all too wonderful friction, force the smallest restrained groans and grunts out of you. They sound horrible to your own ears, if only because you’re adamantly trying to force the sounds back.  Your matesprit, however, has no qualms, as you know – his own occasional low, appreciative moans near your ear send shivers down your spine, and only serve to worsen the uphill battle you always find yourself fighting.

You gasp, much more audibly than your previously restrained sounds, when you feel a finger drawing itself up the slit of your nook. You glare almost reflexively when you feel Cronus smirking against your neck, despite the other troll not being able to see your expression. Which in all honesty, you’re actually quite thankful for, as you don’t even want to imagine what your face must look like when he resumes rubbing his fingers against you. You fail miserably to stifle a moan when one of them finally breaches you, arching your hips against him. He groans low in response, his bulge squeezing yours with a punctuating roll of his hips.

“Cronus…” You all but grit out in your impatience. Your tone is meant to be warning, but much to your dismay it sounds more desperate than anything.

Thankfully, though, Cronus has learned more than well enough by now. He pulls away from your neck, withdrawing his fingers from your nook and using them to steady himself as he sits up. He looks down at you, and thankfully you only have to meet his gaze for a moment, before his eyes are roaming across your figure once again. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he leans back in, murmuring low against your ear. One of his hands moves to grip your hip, his thumb rubbing against the heated skin there, while his other arm loops itself underneath your back. You swallow thickly, as Cronus’s bulge untangles itself from yours.

Despite your attempts to brace yourself, you couldn’t have stifled the yelp that leaves you no matter how hard you tried, as you feel the cold jolt of Cronus’s bulge press into you. The sound draws itself out, sustaining itself as a moan as your matesprit continues to push inside. Your arms move themselves to Cronus’s back, gripping tightly as he spreads you open. Thankfully, you aren’t the only one making noise, with him groaning long and low against your neck.

Your mind is overflowing with the sensation, almost to the point of overwhelming you, had you not felt this exact experience with him before. Despite that, you don’t think you’ll ever get over it. The vast difference in your body temperatures makes you almost hyper-aware of his presence in you. The feeling of his cold length is such a harsh contrast against the heat of your own body, and you don’t know if you’ll ever be fully used to the difference.

His grip on your body tenses slightly, when he’s finally seated fully inside of you. He gives you a moment to adjust, opting to claim your lips in a kiss. You can feel his eagerness to move in the way he kisses you, coupled with the ever so slight twitches of his bulge that draw the smallest sounds out of you, muffled behind your matesprit’s lips. Your hands rub over the skin of his back, tracing slow, gentle circles as you return the kiss.

Before too long, Cronus is finally deciding to move. He begins to steadily roll his hips, the movements slow, but practiced. It’s enough to have you moaning into the kiss, your hands going tense against his back. He’s gentle and slow, which is how pailing tends to start for the two of you. It doesn’t take him much time to find his rhythm at all, his movements gradually intensifying with the rolls of his hips against yours.

A sudden harsh movement of his bulge has you breaking away from the kiss, drawing an unrestrained cry from you. Your nook clenches around him in response, eliciting a groan from Cronus.

 _“Fuck_ , Kanny…” He throws his head back, his bulge thrashing in accordance with a particularly hard thrust.

The cold length lashing against your heated insides draws a high pitched moan from you as Cronus starts to pick up his pace. The hand at your hip is gripping you more tightly as he thrusts harder into you, claws digging into your skin. His bulge becomes more active in its movements, twining and curling up against the walls of your nook.

“God… Cronus!” You moan out his name, your own claws beginning to dig into his back. He doesn’t seem to mind, however, as he kisses your throat, practically growling against your skin.

By this point, your attempts to stifle any noises have all but completely failed. His movements continue to draw moans out of you, almost in synch with the thrusting of his hips, the volume being amplified by the occasional thrash of his bulge.

“So fucking hot,” He moans against your neck, his voice filtering through a growl. The sound alone is enough to send a shiver down your spine, as he continues to groan out words of encouragement near your ear.

It’s not long before his quickening pace is finally sending you over the edge. Your arms tighten their grip around his back, and you lean forward to bury your face in his shoulder. The sound of your climax is barely stifled against his skin, as he continues to thrust into you. Your nook spasms around him, clenching down against his bulge with your orgasm. Cronus groans loud and low against your ear, his hips stilling as his bulge writhes almost frantically, sending more intense shocks down your spine.

You all but collapse back against the bed, your arms detaching themselves from Cronus’s back, landing on either side of your head. Your breaths are ragged and labored, your eyes half lidded as you come down from your coital high. Cronus is in a similar state above you, his larger frame almost shaking with the effort to prevent himself from just collapsing on top of you.

You make a face when he finally does pull out, registering the sensation of the cold genetic material inside of you as he withdraws. Cronus’s body drops down next to you, his arms almost immediately moving to wrap themselves around your still heaving body.

“Shit, babe.” Cronus rasps out, pulling you closer to him. The shifting of your body only makes you more aware of how disgusting you feel right now, but you’re far too tired out to complain. You can only roll your eyes at him, as you let him pull you into a cool embrace while you both focus on leveling out your breathing. You don’t really have much to say in reply to him; you seldom do, after pailing. Not to suggest that you don’t enjoy the experience, even if the aftermath is less than enjoyable. For you, anyway.

“Shower?” He asks as if on cue, punctuating the question with a kiss to your temple.  
  
“Later,” you murmur in reply, snuggling closer to him. While you do feel disgusting, and you are well aware that it will only be worse if you wait, you don’t particularly feel like getting out of bed right now. Besides, the last thing you need is Cronus trying to tag along. Both of you have learned the hard way that your distance on the spectrum makes for the most uncomfortable showers either of you have ever experienced.

No, for now, you just want to sleep. And despite how gross you feel, that shouldn’t be a problem, especially not with a cuddle-hungry, satisfied seadweller clinging to you.

**Author's Note:**

> What even is that summary? What even is any of this?
> 
> I do not know.


End file.
